


Men Are Such Babies

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Couch Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Derek, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek feels happier than he has in a long time and he pretends otherwise. Then, sex. Because why not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men Are Such Babies

Scott was sprawled out on the couch like he actually owned the place, stuffing his face with M&M's, his eyes never leaving the TV screen. Derek sighed, exasperated. He walked to the couch and planted himself next to it.

“What are you even watching?”

“Anastasia.”

Derek lifted both of Scott's legs off the cushions and flopped down in the empty space, reluctantly placing Scott's legs back on his lap. Scott didn't react one way or another, the merciless crunching of the M&M's raged on and his eyes were still glued to the movie.

Derek felt so stupid. It was so fucking domestic, it sometimes hurt to have Scott around. He reminded him too much of Laura. He was wearing mismatched socks, a black one with Homer Simpson's face on it, and the other plain brown. Laura never paired her socks correctly and always ended up wearing whatever clean ones she could find. She loved to take all the space on the couch too, but Derek would sit on the floor because she wouldn't allow him to lift her legs so he could sit like Scott did.

“You're watching a Disney movie? Are you fucking serious?”

Scott just shushed him, narrowing his eyes at the screen, like he would hear better that way.

“Anastasia is not Disney, you ignorant man,” Stiles said from behind him, his hands sliding down his chest, and kissing the top of his head.

“Whatever, it's a cartoon.”

“Shhh!”

“It's not a cartoon, it's –”

“Shut up, I'm trying to watch something here,” Scott said, pausing the movie. “Go have sex or something, leave me alone with Anastasia.”

Stiles sat in the armchair, a little on the left, next to the couch.

“Whatever dude, you've seen it a hundred times already.”

“I don't care, I don't bother you when you watch your stupid shows.”

Derek was trying to hide a smile when the front door opened and Allison stepped inside. It had taken a long time for her to be allowed to do that. It wasn't like it was actually forbidden or anything, but neither of them had been ready to let it happen. They still weren't friends, they could never be friends. But at least now, they could stay in the same room alone and talk about the weather and about Scott and Stiles, and laugh at the same things. It was good enough.

“Are you watching _Anastasia_ again?” she asked before smooching Scott on the lips.

“You know it makes me so sad when Anya thinks he betrayed her when really he turns down the reward and he's so in love...”

“I know, baby.”

Derek rolled his eyes so hard it hurt him.

“You are such a girl.”

Allison glared at him.

“What if he is?” she asked menacingly, petting Scott's head protectively.

Stiles began to snicker unattractively. Derek scowled at him before lifting Scott's legs again to escape the Girl Power Speech she was undoubtedly about to deliver.

“Exactly, you go, Scott, embrace your femininity,” he said quickly.

“I will, man,” Scott answered automatically.

When he got up, Scott immediately retracted his limbs and sat up straight so Allison could sit next to him. Derek tried not to be annoyed, but it was his house, goddammit. His TV, his couch. Stiles was watching him from the armchair, still laughing silently.

“I'm going out,” he announced.

Allison was already wrapped around Scott. Stiles jumped up.

“Don't be so grumpy, you love it when people act like they live here.”

Derek grabbed his jacket and opened the door.

“I really don't. Are you coming?”

Stiles hurried over to him and they both walked to the car.

“You're not fooling anybody.”

Derek sighed. He was right, he wasn't even fooling himself. He couldn't help but like Scott's rudeness, the way he just emptied the fridge when Derek was out, the way he left half of his homework abandoned on the kitchen counter, the way he never put the DVDs back in their cases. He liked the way Boyd would bring some groceries to fill the fridge Scott had just emptied, the way he read all of Derek's books in a corner, asking him about werewolf lore from time to time. He liked the way Isaac had just decided the guest room was his bedroom, the way he always forgot to switch off the bathroom light.

Scott just belonged there now, with Stiles, with Allison, with Isaac and Boyd. Erica would have, too.

Lydia was still cautious when she was over. She didn't help herself with food, rarely used the bathroom and never took her shoes off. She was a guest. Maybe she wanted to stay that way, Derek didn't know. But the contrast with the others was striking. And that made his apartment much more of a home. He did like it.

  
“So, where're we going?” Stiles asked, once seated in the Camaro.

“Where d'you wanna go?”

“My dad is away for the week,” Stiles replied, wiggling his eyebrows stupidly, “He decided he needed some summer lovin' with Mrs McCall. My house is empty.”

Derek gripped the wheel tighter.

“Stiles,” he almost whined.

“What? The gang is always at your place, and my dad's always at mine, we can't have sex anywhere, now.”

Derek glanced at him sideways and shook his head.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?” Stiles echoed disbelievingly.

“Why are you so surprised? I want sex too, sometimes.”

“I –,” Stiles began, before swallowing audibly. “Well I guess it's nice to hear it from time to time.”

Derek drove the rest of the way in silence. He didn't know what to say, he wasn't exactly good at the whole relationship thing. After the fire, he just had sex with whoever he wanted, left their place in the morning, sometimes right after the act even, and never looked back. He never had to do much because his partners didn't need anything from him. By the time he pulled up in front of the Stilinski house, he was feeling terribly awkward. Stiles had never mentioned any insecurities about their relationship. Surely he had to know Derek wanted him, _needed_ him.

Stiles pulled out his keys and opened the door.

“Don't turn the lights on,” Derek said, on an impulse.

“Do you want me to crack my skull –”

But Derek closed the door behind him, effectively making the house pitch black. He could hear Stiles's breathing loud and clear.

“Oh my God, where the fuck are you?” Stiles said in a loud voice, and Derek smirked.

He shrugged off his jacket and stepped out of his shoes. When his hand closed around Stiles's wrist, he started with a small gasp.

“Fucking Christ, can you not? I can't see or hear anything because you're being stealthy as fuck. Stop.”

Derek laughed and tugged him toward the couch, which he could see clear as day from the hallway.

“I know where I'm going, just let me guide you,” he said quietly when he felt Stiles resisting his pull.

When he got Stiles close enough to the couch he pushed him hard enough to send him tumbling on the cushions with an aborted scream that soon transformed into delighted laughter.

“You son of a –”

The rest of the insult was lost in the back of his throat when Derek kneeled between his legs and started stroking his thighs up and down to his calves. He wrapped his hands around his ankles and began to unlace and take off Stiles's shoes.

“I can see your eyes,” Stiles said in a whisper, even though nobody was home.

“Oh, sorry.”

Derek blinked back the red from his pupils, thanking the darkness of the house silently, for it was conveniently masking the ridiculous blush on his face. The shoes were thrown away in a corner.

“No, no, I didn't mean it like a bad thing. I thought you did it on purpose,” Stiles breathed out, already affected by Derek's touch.

“I – No, it happens when I want to show power or something. Laura's eyes almost never glowed red,” Derek stopped touching Stiles for a second. “She was cool.”

Derek looked up at him and saw him smile lazily.

“I bet she was.”

“My mom was pulling the scary eyes at us to make us clean our room and eat our vegetables and stop fighting each other. She was less cool,” he said with a fond smile.

Stiles laughed, blindly searched for Derek's face and he obliged him, snatching his hand mid-air and placing it against his jaw.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Cause I love you,” Derek replied instantly, like it was something he'd said a thousand times.

It wasn't something he'd said a thousand times. It was the truth, though. Stiles's breathing quickened and his smile dropped.

“Are you serious? You're telling me this when I can't see your face?”

“I'll say it again when you can see it, I promise.”

“But it was, like, the first time!”

“Don't be so romantic, it's weird,” Derek palmed his dick through his jeans to prove his point.

Stiles sucked in a breath and laughed at the same time, choking on his own spit.

“Okay, back to business then.”

Derek hummed and zipped down the fly at a tortuous and slow pace. Stiles was already squirming in his jeans. Then, he hooked his fingers under the fabric and tugged it all the way down, helping Stiles step out of them.

“Take off your shirt,” Derek instructed.

“My eyes are kinda getting used to the dark and I don't see you getting naked,” Stiles reprimanded.

“It's not about me.”

“Derek. Get. Naked,” Stiles punctuated each word with a small tap on the cushions.

No need to be told twice. Derek made a quick job of getting rid of his clothes. In fact, he was already in his boxers and Stiles was still struggling with the last of his many layers. Derek helped him out of the tight t-shirt and climbed on the couch, straddling his thighs.

“I have to tell you, when I woke up this morning I had no idea this was going to be such a good night,” Stiles chuckled, settling his hands on Derek's hips first, stabilizing him, before letting them roam around everywhere on his body. From his shoulders to his chest to his ass.

Derek rolled his hips down tentatively, and Stiles began to babble superfluous words.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Wha – ? You're asking me? Oh my God, Derek, I can't think right now, you fried my brain, do whatever you want.”

Derek stopped the motion he had going and laid a flat hand against his chest. This was important.

“What do you want?” he asked again, ignoring the frustrated sound Stiles made when he stopped moving.

“Well I don't want you to stop moving your dick against my dick, for a start,” Stiles exclaimed, his fingers pressing down against his hips, trying to get the rocking motion going again.

Fair enough. Derek rocked back against him and Stiles answered with a sigh of relief. Derek ducked and bit Stiles's bottom lip gently, teasingly, swiping his tongue against his already open mouth, but backing away slightly everytime Stiles tried to deepen the kiss, making him perpetually chase him.

“Just – please,” Stiles whispered against his jaw, already out of breath.

Derek was winning. He was going to make him say it.

“Hm?”

Stiles gripped at Derek's neck furiously, trying to keep him from lurching away from his mouth, but it was too easy to avoid it.

“Derek, dammit, you fucking tease. Just kiss me alread –”

He surged forward and swallowed the last letter of the word, rewarding Stiles immediately for his request. He kept nibbling at Stiles's lips and their tongues kept brushing past each other. Stiles's mouth was soft and sweet, always so damn sweet, like he had been feasting on candy just before. Derek kissed him hungrily, sucking his lips between his own, licking and biting, arousal spreading from the top of his head to the pit of his stomach. Stiles raked his nails against Derek's bare back and he arched into it, unwillingly wrenching himself away from Stiles's mouth. He gasped, a little surprised. His nerve endings were already tingling with anticipation, his whole body throbbing with need at the things it was promised.

Derek slid back down on the floor, tugging his boxers down clumsily, mouthing at Stile's erection through the fabric of his own underwear.

“What do you want?” he asked again, hoping Stiles was following.

Stiles cleared his throat, probably a little embarrassed.

“Well gee, I don't know, you're here, between my legs, I wonder –”

“I want you to say it, or I won't do anything.”

Stiles stayed silent for a long time, probably trying to see if Derek was going to actually follow up on his threat.

“You _suck_ ,” Stiles whined after a full minute of Derek staring at him blankly, dragging the syllable for longer than necessary.

“Alright,” Derek smirked, before tugging down his boxers and licking Stiles's hardening cock from root to tip.

Stiles breathed out shakily before screwing his eyes shut and mumbling, “Thank God for puns.”

He smeared the pre-come leaking from the slit and gave his cock a few slow pulls, and soon enough Stiles was fully hard. He sucked at the head, using his tongue to tease and make Stiles gasp every now and then. A hand was already cramped down on his shoulder, tightening everytime Derek sank lower and lower, making up with his hand for what he couldn't reach with his mouth. He could feel Stiles melt farther into the couch, the gasps turning into little moans, and that was Derek's favorite part. The voiceless breaths becoming more and more audible until Stiles couldn't help but use his vocal cords.

Derek alternated between sucking him down as far as he could and stroking him fast, sometimes slowing the pace, licking and kissing teasingly.

“Okay, okay, come up here, come up here,” Stiles commanded after a particularly loud moan, tugging him up urgently.

Derek obeyed, satisfied with Stiles's exigent tone.

“There's lube upstairs in my bedroom but ugh, I don't wanna move, and I don't want you to go get it,” Stiles rasped against his chest, when Derek straddled him again.

They were both hard and Derek couldn't help but rub his cock against the slick heat of Stiles, all shiny with spit.

“Why did you want to do it on the couch, you fucking idiot?”

Derek huffed and got up from Stiles's lap, ignoring his protests. He walked to grab his jacket from the floor and triumphantly pulled out a small bottle of lube.

“Yes!” Stiles screamed, already lying down on his back on the couch. “Come back here, hurry up.”

Derek obligingly settled between Stiles's open legs. He kissed Stiles lazily and rubbed their cocks together, building the tension back up again. Never leaving Stiles's lips, he flicked the bottle cap open and generously slicked his fingers.

Still rocking their bodies together slowly, he circled his hole tantalizingly, never breaching past it.

“I'm waiting,” Derek said.

“Wha –?” Stiles mumbled, in a daze, hiking his hips up to find some friction against Derek's body.

“Stiles,” Derek sighed impatiently.

“Oh, yeah, uh, can you uh... do it?”

“Not good enough,” he decided, pulling himself off Stiles just a little.

He knew Stiles would grab onto him before he lifted his weight off him completely. Which he did, with more strength Derek was expecting.

“Okay, fine, you motherfucker. Can you _please_ , just fucking fuck me already?” Stiles hissed.

Derek hummed his agreement and slicked his fingers some more before sinking his thumb into Stiles. He fingered him slowly, listening for the little gasps of pleasure that Stiles was directly making in his mouth, trying to determine what made them increase in number and in decibel.

When Stiles was trembling, rolling his ass against the twist of his fingers, he breathed slowly through his mouth, trying to ignore how hard he was and how easy it would be to just give himself a few tugs and spill all over Stiles's stomach.

“O-okay, please, please, I want more now,” Stiles said, unprompted this time, and Derek rewarded him with a long lick from the center of his chest to his neck, just under Stiles's chin. His tongue was already dry when it reached the base of his neck, so he finished with open mouthed kisses.

Stiles moaned quietly, only for Derek's ears and in response, he lined himself up wordlessly after smearing more lube on his dick. He pushed himself inside slowly, and couldn't help but grunt a little, trying to keep his orgasm at bay. Stiles's breathing stopped until he was buried to the hilt, before he finally gulped loudly, breathing heavily to make up for the lack of oxygen.

Derek loved when Stiles couldn't form words anymore. It was the best kind of reward, and a huge turn-on. Stiles was gripping at the arm of the couch behind him, opening his mouth and stopping after the first syllable of each word, each sentence.

Derek was fluent in Stiles's sex speak.

“Oh –”

 _Oh my (fucking) God_. Derek rolled his hips, and gasped with Stiles, the pleasure center in his brain going crazy. He looped a hand under his arched back, and thrust in again.

“Fu –”

 _Fuck (yeah)_. Stiles pushed against Derek's ass, again and again, trying to get him deeper, throwing his head back.

“Jes –”

 _Jesus (fucking) Christ_. Derek slowed down a little, slapping his hips against his in long thrusts.

“Fas –”

 _Faster_. Derek picked up the pace, unable to stop his own moans and voiced breaths tumbling out of his mouth.

“De –”

 _Derek_. Favorite word of them all. He bit down Stiles's taunt neck, and tasted the sweat gathered here with his tongue, absorbing the vibrating sounds of his throat. Stiles switched to the monosyllabic phase, then.

“Yes, yes, yes.”

Easy word to hiss between the thrusts. Derek responded to every sound with a moan of his own. He slowed down his pace a little.

“No, no, no.”

Picked it up again. Soon, it was Derek’s turn to be reduced to vowels only, whereas Stiles could form more coherent words, like he was draining his ability to speak and absorbing it for himself.

“Touch me, Derek, I'm gonna come, Derek,” he keened, hooking his left hand behind Derek's neck.

And Derek did was he was told, stroking Stiles's cock fast and hard, feeling the warmth coiling just below his stomach. Stiles went rigid, gasping loudly and coming with long spurts, Derek still thrusting his hips to guide him through it, moaning even louder when he felt his own orgasm slam into him. Stiles hissed and rolled his ass down, still coming down from his high, encouraging Derek with little affirmative words, stroking his back.

They finally stilled, their jerky motions coming to a stop, reducing them to a pile of heaving chests and panting mouths.

“Score!” Stiles laughed, when he finally regained some composure.

“Shut up,” Derek mumbled against his neck.

“Let's move up to my room, we're not falling asleep here.”

  
Derek was in the shower, washing the sex marks of the night before more thoroughly. He was enjoying the warmth of the spray, lazily stroking his chest, still half-asleep. He heard the bathroom door open, and a flurry of limbs soon joined him under the water.

Stiles plastered himself against his back and nuzzled his neck, mumbling incoherent sounds against his skin. Derek closed his eyes and let Stiles wrap himself around him, his hands hooked around his chest, brushing teasingly against his nipples. Derek was ninety-eight percent sure Stiles wasn't doing it on purpose, but he couldn't help but snap his eyes open again, suddenly more interested in the proceedings. He looped an arm behind Stiles's neck, encouraging him to kiss and nibble at the skin of his neck, and started to stroke his dick slowly with his other hand.

“Derek,” Stiles mumbled wetly against his nape. “Let me do it.”

Derek went taunt for a second before letting go of himself quickly, placing both of his hands in front of him against the tiles, making himself bend forward a little.

Stiles hand was perfect. Derek was pretty sure it was a normal hand, and that Stiles was not particularly gifted. He wasn't a sex god or anything, but to Derek everything he did was making him breathe faster, shallower, swallow thickly. Everything he did made his skin tingle and itch with the desire to be touched, and... Maybe Stiles was a sex god, maybe Stiles had amazing hands, maybe he was incredibly good at this or maybe Derek was just in love. He'll never know.

Stiles was setting up the pace, slow and languid, twisting his wrist just so every now and then, laughing when Derek answered him with a groan. His heart rate was slowly but surely climbing higher and higher, when all of a sudden Stiles stopped touching him altogether. Derek tried to turn around, but Stiles held him in place with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip. Then, he pressed against the spot just below Derek's neck, right on his tattoo, and Derek took the hint and bent lower, still bracing himself on the tiles. He automatically opened his legs a little wider too, and smiled privately when he heard the little hum of agreement Stiles made, brushing his hands along his back and to his ass, the hot water cascading in droplets on his neck making everything a little more intense.

Stiles teased him for a minute, letting his fingers play around his hole, barely pressing inside. Then, he felt Stiles change positions and heard his knees bump against the ceramic of the bathtub. He was kneeling behind him, and Derek couldn't help but hang his head between his extended arms, screwing his eyes shut, when he felt his tongue.

It didn't last long, Stiles was only teasing, Derek suspected he was only half awake even, but it made him quiver and pant harder nonetheless. His hand flexed against the tiles, trying desperately to hold on to something.

He craned his neck to watch Stiles methodically stroke himself before getting back up to finger Derek open. Relief flowed over Derek when he felt the pressure, and he pushed his ass back against Stiles's finger instinctively.

Stiles groaned after a while, and Derek recognized it as the _I'm not happy with what's happening right now, why aren't you making any more noise?_  groan. Still two fingers deep in his ass, he reached around to grip his dick, gave it a few hard pulls, and bit his shoulder blade.

Pleasure sparked all at once in his body, making him jerk under Stiles's teeth, under the pressure of his fingers, under the unforgiving pace of his wrist. Derek couldn't help the two little sounds that escaped his mouth, and when he felt Stiles smile against his skin, he faked the third one, just because.

Stiles withdrew his fingers then, but didn't stop stroking him. He pushed at his back again to make him bend lower still, and Derek relented. He felt him align himself before pressing in ever so slowly, making him grunt in annoyance.

“That's revenge for last night, shut up,” Stiles said.

Derek shoved himself back further on Stiles's dick and smirked when he heard him yelp. The rhythm Stiles had going with his hand faltered a bit.

“Fuck you too,” he laughed.

“How about you actually get on with fucking m –”

Derek snapped his mouth shut as Stiles's hips slapped against his ass. Stiles chuckled.

“Sh –” Derek hissed, either to tell Stiles to "shut up", or to eloquently moan "shit", or to accuse him of being a "show off".

Either way, nothing came out and the hand on his dick slowed down.

“You were saying?”

“Nothing, nothing, I wasn't saying anything,” Derek laughed, amused by Stiles's teasing mood.

Definitely getting revenge for the night before.

“Uh-huh.”

Stiles braced both of his hands on his waist to hold him there and rolled his hips up carefully. Derek sighed. Finally. He rocked his ass down to meet Stiles's movements and soon enough, one arm was looped around him, with one hand hooked on his shoulder, and he picked up the pace. The shower spray was drowning out the noise of his faint moans.

Stiles was clinging onto him hard, leaving pink marks on his skin where his fingers dug deeper as he thrust faster. The heat coming from the shower steam added to the way his blood fired up in his veins made him dizzy and he gulped for air, his vision dissolving around the edges. He felt his whole body tense up, his orgasm was just right there, he wished he could just reach inside of him and rip it out or he was going to go insane.

“Oh my God,” he hissed, arching his back a little, unable to stay still.

“Damn, I can't – see your face right now,” Stiles panted, slowing down his pace a little.

“Don't stop, don't stop,” Derek breathed, unashamed.

“I'm not,” Stiles assured before picking the pace back up again. His thrusts were less deep but faster and in that moment Derek was utterly selfish. His whole world zeroed on his pleasure and nothing else. Stiles must have felt the same because his pace faltered and he came with a loud gasp, his hips stilling after a few jerky motions.

He pulled out after a few seconds, still panting and letting the water wash his mess away. Derek turned around, still achingly hard, and Stiles dropped to his knees again.

Derek let himself be pressed against the wall easily to make sure he wasn't going to slip or let his knees give out, and without any more warning, Stiles took his cock into his mouth and sucked.

He wasn't teasing anymore, and Derek would have kissed the hell out of him if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied. It was exactly was Derek needed, and he let his head thump hard against the tiles behind him because looking at Stiles's hollowed cheeks was just too much, he looked back down at him immediately because, yes, it was too much, it was perfect. The slurping wet sounds were reaching his ears and it was absolutely obscene. He placed a hand on Stiles head, brushing his wet hair out of his forehead, not applying any pressure, just resting it there. Stiles looked up and Derek was so out of breath he could almost literally see his heart pumping through his chest.

He gasped one last time, his mouth formed around some sort of word, and he came down Stiles's throat. Stiles could not take it all, so he pulled out, and caught most of it on his chin and tongue.

“Oh my God,” Derek said again, but this time, it was out of utter and complete satisfaction.

Stiles stayed on his knees and never leaving his gaze, started to slowly drag his tongue under Derek cock. It was like blowing on lumps of coal to make them flare red again. The fire was out, but you could still get burned. The sparks of pleasure died out soon after that, and Stiles got up with a smug look on his face.

“Are you dead?” he asked.

Derek didn't answer. Self-satisfied Stiles was insufferable. He turned the water off and stepped out of the tub, grabbing the biggest towel he could find. He draped it around his shoulders, holding one corner with each of his hands and opened his arms to Stiles so he could step between the stretch of them.

“Wanna bet the leftover pizza is gone when we go back to the loft?” Derek said, wrapped around Stiles.

“Wanna bet Allison and Scott had sex on your couch?” Stiles replied, nuzzling his damp neck.

Derek spluttered.

**Author's Note:**

> You could come say hi on [tumblr](http://yourunwiththewolves.tumblr.com) if you were so inclined. 
> 
> Title is from Anastasia, obviOUSLY. :)
> 
> Feel free to point out inconsistancies, typos, and all mistakes cause it's currently 7am where I am right now and it's difficult for my brain aight?


End file.
